


Keep On Keepin' On

by Exorin, Ponderosa



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safer Sex, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorin/pseuds/Exorin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth could be an ugly thing, but it was worse when nothing had been going his way since his return to Gotham. Harvey stared him down, and eventually Jim’s gaze dropped to Harvey’s mouth, where the creeping light of dawn made the blond in Harvey’s beard look like ash. Harvey gave him another shake, and it was like a lightbulb coming on; Harvey was frustrated about all this too, maybe just as much as he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep On Keepin' On

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty PWP but for a touch of context, most of this was written mid-S1 after Jim and Barbara had split. Per usual, tons of thanks go to Blue Soaring who helped fix things up. :)

Jim knew that sometimes--alright, most of the time--he was too stubborn for his own good. It was rounding five in the morning, and for the third night in a row there’d been zero activity at Bruno’s. The place deserved some sort of award for being the most obvious front in Gotham, tucked up where it was right on the edge of a string of warehouses and empty lots near the docks. The pawn broker’s shop was little more than a box with barred windows, and a fire trap at that: the steel door letting out into the alley was rusted shut. One way in and one way out was the only break they'd gotten on this case so far, letting them conveniently hang back near the local stroll and watch for visitors from one long block away.

That is, if the place would get any visitors. Three full nights and the courier he and Harvey had been waiting for still hadn't shown. It’d been a solid tip, a real good line, and they had jack shit to show for it. He should be used to things turning sour on him by now, but somehow--Jim balled his hand into a fist and punched the dash.

"Whoa, watch it," Harvey said. The rustle of his leather jacket as he twisted in the driver's to face Jim was nails on a chalkboard. There’d been seven consecutive hours of rustling. So much goddamn rustling Jim wanted to throw the thing in the river. Harvey slid his fingertips along the dash. "Just because she comes out of the lot doesn’t mean I don’t treat her like my own."

"I’m sick and tired of this." Jim was ready to yank on the door handle and storm down the block. But to what end, a nagging voice in his head asked. There was nothing there, and maybe they weren’t ever going to close this case, no matter the squeeze they were getting from the Captain. Helplessness rankled him almost as much as crooked cops. "I need some air."

"Keep your ass in the seat and crank down the window, hotshot. We’ve got a half hour before the rest of the morning crew starts showing up. We sit tight, we rule them out, and _then_ we go home."

Jim blew out a frustrated breath, annoyed now with himself because Harvey was right. The night wasn’t entirely over; they could still catch a break. "You just want the overtime," Jim said, knowing he sounded bitter and not giving a shit.

"Hell yes, I want the overtime. Keeping the Duchess in pearls doesn’t come cheap," he said, and there was more rustling as he draped his wrist over the wheel and went back to staring towards the pawn shop. Jim squinted and tried not to speculate as to whether Harvey meant pearls euphemistically. Better he didn’t go down that road, ‘cause the last time it happened he’d spent far too much time thinking about all the giggling and groaning he’d overheard the night before they'd confronted Falcone. "But I’d also like to clear this case before more bodies start piling up."

"What do we do if this doesn’t pan out?" Jim wondered aloud. Maybe if he thought about where their other leads might go instead of how this one was fizzling out, he could bleed off some of this restless energy. 

"What we always do, partner: Keep on keepin’ on."

The minutes crawled by. Cars appeared to fill up the spaces in front of the warehouses until there were workers milling about with paper coffee cups steaming in their hands. Not one of them even went near Bruno’s pawn shop. Jim reached for the door handle only to be stopped short by Harvey’s grip tight on his sleeve. He tossed a reassuring grin at his partner. "I’m just going to go have a friendly chat with a few of those guys."

"No you’re not," Harvey said firmly. "Maroni gets wind of us hassling his payroll, we make our job a whole lot harder."

Jim slammed shut the door and shook off Harvey’s grip, and that ugly frustration boiled up again. "I need to do _something_."

"So watch the sun rise. Learn to be zen," Harvey said, and even though Jim knew--knew down to the very marrow of his bones that it was purely to get a rise out of him--he snapped. He twisted, sucking in a breath to give Harvey a piece of his mind because Harvey’s version of zen was thinly veiled apathy. The breath lodged in his throat when Harvey moved to mirror him, grabbing him again, thick hands curled in the front of his coat. Harvey shook him and said, voice raising, "There ain’t nothing going down tonight, Gordon. Deal with it. Not everything can go your way all the time."

Truth could be an ugly thing, but it was worse when nothing had been going his way since his return to Gotham. Harvey stared him down, and eventually Jim’s gaze dropped to Harvey’s mouth, where the creeping light of dawn made the blond in Harvey’s beard look like ash. Harvey gave him another shake, and it was like a lightbulb coming on; Harvey was frustrated about all this too, maybe just as much as he was. His gaze stayed fixed on Harvey’s mouth, and he couldn’t seem to pull it away, even though the moment was stretching a little too thin and the only sound now between them was the harshness of his own breath through clenched teeth. There was a whole pileup happening in his throat, words slammed up to one another ready to be thrown in Harvey’s face, but somehow, instead, Jim found himself surging forward and then his mouth was on Harvey’s lips and crushing Harvey’s startled curse to bits.

Despite the swearing, Harvey rolled with it, or at least met Jim halfway. The grip in his coat tightened, and there wasn’t a forehead slam to go with it, only an equally fed-up guttural noise and the click of teeth as Harvey’s mouth opened under his.

Jim pulled back with a start. "What the fuck are we doing?" he asked, even though he’d started it. Even though it was his hand groping up Harvey’s thigh and him going back for seconds to push his tongue into Harvey’s mouth. He could feel Harvey’s hands loosening their grip and expected his partner to continue the streak of making the smart calls tonight, pull away to shout a few choice words about personal space or daddy issues.

 

But instead Harvey clapped a hand to his neck and another to his knee, and said, "I don't know and I don't care. Get a good handful, Gordon," before angling Jim’s head to the side to stop their teeth from hitting. Harvey’s hand slid up along the inside of his leg, groped until he figured out which side Jim favored and got a nice feel of Jim’s thickening cock.

Two tours overseas, and Jim was still terrible at doing what he was told, his contrary streak a mile wide. He kept his hand away from second base to kiss Harvey harder instead. It didn’t keep him from being keenly aware of how much he _wanted_ to take that handful though and return the favor ‘cause the squeeze of Harvey’s fingers was the first touch beside his own that he’d felt in weeks.

Jim made an involuntary sound when Harvey broke away, finding himself relieved when it was only to reach down to hit the lever and force the seat back as far as it would go. "Making out in an empty parking lot, it’s bringing back memories," Harvey said, stretching out his legs before moving to wriggle out of his coat. Not even a minute of moving around and the windows were already fogging up.

"Just like high school," Jim said dryly as he wrestled out of his own coat.

"Does this make me the prom queen?" Harvey shoved his coat between himself and the door, and he popped open his fly. His knees spread lewdly wide. "Or is that you? Cause someone's gonna be sucking some dick in a minute, so help me."

Jim couldn’t drag his eyes off the bulge in Harvey’s pants: the outline of his cock was still mostly soft but thick enough that Jim knew it’d make a nice mouthful. He glanced up to meet Harvey’s gaze, swallowing when he saw the look there that said Harvey was damn into this even if it was taking a minute for his dick to catch up with the program. Jim didn’t flinch when Harvey put one hand back on Jim’s neck and undid his fly the rest of the way with the other. Harvey’s cock when he pulled it free was filling out, and it hung heavy over his open zip as he propped his wrist back onto the steering wheel and lifted his chin in a silent, _Your move now._

"Have a condom?" Jim asked.

Harvey produced one like magic, and said, "Long live the king," as Jim tore open the packet.

"Tell me when you’re about to come," Jim said, pinching the tip of the condom between his lips. He bent forward, purposefully staring Harvey straight in the eye as he said out of the corner of his mouth, "I’m going to want to take it in the face."

The sudden rush of blood into Harvey’s cock was damn rewarding, and made it stiff enough that Jim only had to give it a couple quick tugs before rolling the condom on with his mouth. It’d been a while since he’d done this on a dick that wasn’t made of silicone, but it went on smooth and easy, Harvey’s cock filling out the rest of the way as Jim nudged the condom down as far as he could without choking. His mouth was wet and flooding wetter, spit making it easy on the second go to let him push the condom a little further down Harvey’s fat cock.

"Christ, Gordon," Harvey said, levering his hips off the seat. The hand on the back of Jim’s neck tightened, and Harvey’s cock went from hard to harder, the head of it wedging tight at the back of his throat. "I’ll be your date to prom any time."

Jim made a sound--one part laugh and two parts pleasure--and even if this was a dumbass idea, he felt lighter than he had for days. He pulled back and let the weight of Harvey’s hand on him push his head down again. He’d always loved sucking dick, got a lot of it when he was deployed though he’d been careful not to earn a reputation, and even if getting his mouth fucked by a strap-on was great, it wasn’t quite the same as feeling the heat and swell of the real thing. The taste of latex was always overwhelming to begin with, but as he got used to it, he began to notice the way Harvey smelled--sweat and musk, the faint stink of stale piss and the warm, almost sweet smell of his balls. Jim breathed in deep, all the scents mixing together with the familiar funk of the car and the leather of Harvey’s jacket. It turned him on more than he'd ever admit, made him wish for a bed or at least enough room to pull off and spend a minute or two nuzzling his face in Harvey’s crotch.

In the back of his head the little voice that he’d been ignoring was getting louder, suggesting that maybe this was the worst idea he’d had since trying to go straight for Falcone. Jim ignored it. So what if Harvey was his partner. He’d sucked off his squadmates overseas without anything changing out on patrol. And right now, when he didn’t have a lot of friends in Gotham and only a cold bed to go home to, what was the worst that could come of this? He and Harvey were both adults.

He worked his mouth slowly along Harvey’s dick, enjoying the feel of it slipping between his lips, not bothering to swallow when spit started dripping down to where his thumb was hooked around the base. He could take the whole of it into his throat if he wanted, warmed up now to the task, but he learned the places that made Harvey swear instead, his tongue tracing every vein and ridge.

When Harvey stiffened, Jim wondered if maybe he was going to pop already, but then he heard the other car. "Don’t move," Harvey hissed, and grabbed his coat from beside him to fling it over Jim. Jim went stock still as he heard Harvey roll down the driver’s side window and the slow crunch of approaching tires on gravel came to a stop. "Hey," Harvey said, tone cheery. "Long time no see, Packard."

Jim wracked his brains until he matched the name to memory. Packard was another detective, Vice squad. The guy usually worked the night shift which meant his day was coming to an end. "You got some company there, Harvey?" he asked, and Jim couldn’t tell from his tone how much the guy could see or just what kind of cop he was. Beneath the weight of Harvey’s coat, Jim struggled to stay still. The air had turned stifling almost immediately and his mouth was stretched to the limit. The need to pull back enough to swallow was excruciatingly intense.

"Might be, but I ain’t telling you who it is," Harvey said. His hand smacked against the outside of the car, a hollow metal sound. "Promised this one a freebie for a freebie."

Packard laughed. "Next time you want to earn your get out of jail card, honey, you do it a little further away from the other girls, you hear?" There was a pause, and Jim made a faint sound that he hoped would pass as agreement and send Packard on his way, but the guy stuck around, and Jim heard him put the car into park to idle. "Where’s your partner at? Gordon, right? Don’t tell me that tightass is out getting with one of my girls, too."

"Please. Have you met the guy? He won't even take a discount on his coffee," Harvey’s hand fell onto Jim’s shoulder, like he was trying to reassure Jim that he didn’t mean what was coming out of his mouth. Jim didn’t take it personally, not right now, but as his jaw ached and his pulse pounded in his head, he knew he didn’t have to quite take it silently, so to speak. He wriggled his tongue, forced Harvey’s next breath to suck in sharp and swift, and as a spike of adrenaline hit him, he decided to hell with it and took Harvey straight to the back of his throat. His nose shoved up against the inside of Harvey’s thigh, and he hollowed his cheeks out like a pro. "Oh, Jesus," Harvey said, squirming. "Got a fiesty one. But, uh, what-- Oh, right. Jim ain’t so bad when you get to know him. He’s being a pal; stretching his legs and giving me and the prom queen here a little privacy."

"Whatever you say, Harv, but I still don’t know how you stand working with that guy. He’s a piece of work."

When Jim pulled back enough to catch a breath, he could feel Harvey’s impatience in the hand kneading at his shoulder. As fucked up as it was, the longer Packard stuck around, the more Jim got turned on. It was entirely Harvey’s fault; knowing that Harvey was probably dying to drag the jacket away and watch him take it deep got Jim going. He tried hard not to moan around the weight of Harvey’s cock, and even though he hardly moved his head, each time he did, it made a loud, slick noise.

"He can be a real _dick_ ," Harvey said, and the hand on Jim’s shoulder shifted to his head and forced him down. Jim’s whole body jolted, shot through with a kick of lust hard enough that for a moment he thought he was going to straight up lose it in his pants. "So look, I gotta wrap this up before Gordon comes back and puts an end to all the fun in Whoville. Always good seeing you though, buddy, we should catch a beer next week."

"Don’t let this old dog leave without tipping you, sweetheart," Packard called out, and through the roar of blood in his ears, Jim heard the car crank into gear and slowly pull away.

"Christ on a fucking stick," Harvey gasped. He yanked the jacket away from Jim, and Jim pulled off with a truly obscene slurping sound and gulped down air. He hastened to swallow, and his throat had that faint ache that came from being stretched a little too quickly. His face as a whole felt numb, and as he worked his jaw from side to side, he could feel the spit stringing from his lips. He was about to wipe it away when Harvey’s hand got to his face first, fingers swiping across his cheek to trace the swollen flush of his mouth. "Didn’t think that prick was going to leave until I nutted. If he was going to make me miss blowing a wad all over your face, I was going to shoot him."

"You close?" Jim asked, his voice rough as sandpaper.

Harvey cupped Jim's chin. "Fuck, am I. Did you learn to suck dick like this in the Boy Scouts, boy scout?"

"Army," Jim said truthfully, shrugging his shoulder. He couldn’t help the faint grin that crept onto his mouth. 

"Figures," Harvey replied, matching his grin. He released Jim’s face and moved his spit-wet hand to slide comfortably over the back of Jim’s skull. "All right now, let’s make this happen," he said, guiding Jim’s head down again. "Just a few more licks to get to the center, and then I’m going to blow a spectacular load all over your pretty face, kid. I hope you’re ready."

"You have no idea," Jim muttered, his lips sliding onto Harvey’s cock, rubbing over the wide flare of the crown as his tongue dragged the loose tip of the condom over the slit. Like making up for lost time, he worked his tongue all around the head of Harvey’s cock, groaning when Harvey’s leg jerked under where Jim braced himself, and again when Harvey pulled him off with a hand in the back of his collar.

"We do this again, I’m gonna want to see it on your tongue," Harvey said, as he stripped the condom off and flung it out the window. He swiped a hand through the mess of spit still slicked across Jim’s chin and fisted his cock, working it fast and tight as Jim sealed his lips into a line and waited for that first hot streak of come to hit his face.

He didn’t figure on waiting long, and it was about half that amount of time before a shot got him square across the mouth. His eyes snapped shut on reflex but he pried them open again, wanting to watch Harvey’s dick spitting spunk, but from as close as Harvey’s hand on the back of his neck was holding him, his eyes would have to cross to manage even a glimpse of it. Instead his gaze dragged upwards to Harvey’s face and landed on Harvey’s open, panting mouth for a split-second before ending up locked eye-to-eye with his partner as Harvey wrung out another thick spurt onto his chin.

"You like to get fucked, too?" Harvey asked him. "Bet you take it like a champ."

Jim carefully righted himself and popped open the glove box to go for the stash of napkins left over from take-out lunches. Harvey reached past him to shut it and stopped him before he could wipe his face. Harvey’s arm stretched across the seat behind Jim while his other hand curled under Jim’s jaw.

"Save that. I got this," Harvey said, swiping the mess off Jim’s face and into his own hand. He nodded at Jim’s crotch as he smeared his fingers together. "Pull your dick out, partner. I’m guessing you like it sticky."

For a moment, Jim hesitated. It was a very brief moment. Before his next breath, he was undoing his fly and shoving his shorts down with his thumbs. He was so damn hard his dick slapped against his belly, and Harvey whistled appreciatively before taking hold of it with his come-slick fist. 

Warm breath tickled Jim’s ear as Harvey’s mouth brushed near his cheek. "Now show us your tits," Harvey said, and the arm around Jim’s shoulders pulled him towards the warmth of Harvey’s body.

"Fuck," Jim sputtered, hips lifting to fuck into Harvey’s grip even as he let his body list sideways. A wet lick dragged over the corner of his mouth to taste what lingered on his skin, and the laugh that was spilling out of him was interrupted by a rough groan. He shouldn’t be turned on by this any more than hiding under a coat with a dick down his throat. "My tits? Really, Harv?"

"You want to shoot it all over your shirt, be my guest, but I ain’t taking one in the face. Getting a glazed donut from a sweet piece of pussy is one thing, but if you could grow facial hair you’d know that shit gets crusty."

Jim shook his head, but he didn't exactly object. Blowing his wad into a tissue wasn't half as appealing as what the growing anticipatory look on Harvey's face promised. If Harvey wanted to see him bare-chested and messy, or judging by the way he left a spit-sloppy trail across Jim's jaw, wanted to mess him up a little more-- Jim groaned despite himself, his knees spreading wide. He got as far as half the buttons of his shirt undone before he stopped, sitting bolt upright in the seat. He put a hand on Harvey's wrist to stall him. "Hold up," Jim said, gaze tracking the car that'd pulled up near the scatter of women waiting around the adult bookstore.

"The only holdup is you, Jim, c'mon." Harvey tried to turn his head away from the window and into a kiss, but Jim twisted out of it.

"That car was here before," he said, intent now on the scene across the way. "Three hours ago, give or take." As the driver stepped out, Jim squinted and wracked his memory. They hadn’t been paying much attention to the adult store, but something about the guy’s baseball cap was raising a red flag.

"Probably one of their pimps keeping an eye on things," Harvey said, his grip still tight and his breath still hot on Jim’s cheek. He took a second to spit, and his thumb rubbed in a tight circle that turned Jim cross-eyed. Across the way, a woman in a fluorescent-pink zebra-striped tube top led the driver inside as Harvey added, "Or, maybe once just didn't cut it. Some guys get addicted to working girls same as any other kind of junkie."

The talk about prostitution was killing the mood as quickly as the hope that all this time wasn't a waste. Still, Jim was admittedly reluctant as he forced Harvey's hand off him. "Maybe. But maybe we've been keeping tabs on the wrong door." He zipped himself up and grabbed his jacket. With a rueful smile tugging at his mouth, he patted Harvey on the cheek. "We have to check it out."

"Fine, but don't think we're done here. A lot of things get said about me, but I swear to you Jim, I am a man who _always_ make sure that everyone party to the nookie gets their cookies."

"Okay. Whatever. You owe me one." Jim rolled his eyes as he launched himself out of the car.

They caught zebra tube top on her way out--alone and slipping a wad of cash under a shiny bracelet that covered her arm halfway to the elbow.

Jim stood between her and the other girls, half of whom were drawing close to find out what was going down while the other half were making themselves scarce. Tube Top’s gaze raked across the whole of him, and he suppressed the worry that somehow what he and Harvey had been up to was written all over him. Not to mention that line of sight went both ways. He gestured between the car at the curb and the shop with its blacked-out windows and buzzing neon. "You always that quick?"

"Honey, I'm just that good."

Harvey swooped in before Jim had a chance to demand she tell them the truth. He'd put his coat back on and it flared like a cape as he curled an arm around the woman's narrow shoulders. "Look, don't mind my partner," Harvey said, and leaned in to lower his voice, speaking straight into her ear too quietly for Jim to hear. After a bit her expression softened and a moment later she slowly closed her hand around the business card that Harvey fished out of his pocket to offer.

"You gotta learn some manners, boy," she said to Jim, tapping the worn corner of the card against Jim’s chest. Harvey gave him a look from over her shoulder, but she gave them the info they needed before strutting away and waving the card triumphantly at the other working girls.

"Manners, Jim, you heard the lady." Harvey nodded towards the door. He hooked a thumb into his belt, his stance wide-legged and powerful. "So we catch this guy, book him, and then what do you say to coming over to my place after shift."

"That determined to finish what you started?"

"Gotta prove it to you that I'm good at something other than sweet-talking hookers," he said, and there was a soft huskiness in his tone that made Jim's stomach do a little flip.

"Sure," Jim said, no other words making it past the clench of his throat. He unclipped his shield and smacked Harvey on the chest. "Let's do this, your majesty."


End file.
